


This Is How It Goes

by Krasimer



Series: Khdo Doo Zrxqgv dqg Qhyhu Edfn Grzq [9]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Grunkle4Grandpa, Grunkles on a boat, Ma Pines is still alive, Sea Grunkles, These are the names I'm going with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pre-Summer visit to the niblings results in some random things. </p><p>(Stan and Ford finally meet Thomas Pines in person.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How It Goes

"Okay, so..." Ford patted his chest, looking around the boat carefully. "Do I have everything?"

"We're visiting, not relocating, c'mon!" Stan groaned as he shifted his bag on his shoulder. "Sixer, kids are waitin', let's go already!"

Ford sniffed almost reproachfully. "I can't help it if I want to make a good impression on your _son_ , Stanley. He has never met me, we've never talked. He talked to you when you were pretending to be me," he rolled his eyes, snagging his wallet off a flat surface near the exit. "Besides, I've hardly packed more than I need." 

"Oh, trust me, when we're dealing with the niblings, we've got stuff we need in here," Stan held up his bag, then jerked his head to the door. "Let's go, they're expecting us in about an hour and it'll take almost that long just to get there."

With another roll of his eyes, Ford smiled at his brother. "I still don't see why we couldn't just use my teleporter. It works fine!"

"The last time you used it, we had to get the boat repaired because the monster you used it on fell on top of it," Stan climbed onto the deck, extending a hand to help Ford up. "I'm not gonna trust my entire life to some gizmo that stills gives me nightmares to think about."

Checking his watch, Stan climbed down to the dock, taking his brother's small bag to let him use both hands. " _Besides_ , smart guy, if we're gonna use it at all, you know they're going to want to be there for that. If anything happened to it, y'know, made it unusable? It'd break their little hearts."

"You're just as smart as I am, Stanley," Ford took his bag back, then looked around. "Piedmont, California. It seems..."

"Dull, right?"

"The children shouldn't be here, it's too normal."

"I was kind of telling Thomas about that in my last letter to him."

Ford cleared his throat as they walked, glancing over at his brother. "Are you allowed to be here?"

"Legally?"

"Stan."

Sighing, Stan nodded. "Yeah, the one thing I had a warrant for out here had a statute of limitations, and I think the guy who was on my tail might be dead. He must've been thirty years older than me? Long dead by now."

"You don't know that for sure, Stanley. Some people live a long time."

"Look, Ford, unless the guy had magical surgery to correct almost three hundred pounds of overweight flab, he's dead. He was about four hundred pounds and the last time I saw him, he was practically dying already," Stan shrugged. "Plus, I was in newspapers as dead. You did read the letter, right?"

"Yes," Ford nodded, pulling out the directions the younger twins had sent them-

(Mabel's colorful pen was harder to read than Dipper's black-inked words, but he appreciated it anyways)

\- before turning left and motioning for Stan to do the same. "They said something about a family reunion, right?"

"Yeah. Mabel called, said something about a family get-together, which is why we're here now. The twins wanted us around for the start of summer, and when Thomas took the phone from her, he allowed it," Stan grimaced. "I told him there was some stuff to talk about and that I was bringing someone with me."

Ford nodded, a small frown back on his face. "Stanley, how much do you think they'll appreciate the surprise?"

"Not much, I think there's gonna be hell to pay, but Thomas said something about a surprise person for me, too, so..." Stan shrugged again, rolling his neck around. "I'm just hoping to get through this without having an episode or anything. Shermie'll be there, the twins'll be there, my kid and his wife...I don't know who the surprise person is."

"I'll just be grateful if it's not our father," Ford grumbled.

"Pops died a long time ago, back in...'92, I think? Might've been '93."

"Ah, yes."

"Didn't I tell you that?"

"You did, I just..."

"Hey, I don't blame you for being worried, the man was a jackass," Stan grinned. "What'd you think, that they'd have his skeleton propped up at the table? Still wearin' his suit and hat and glasses, drawn on eyebrows looking disappointed and angry like always?"

Ford snorted with laughter. "The man deserves more respect than that."

"Okay, so the eyebrows would be on pieces of paper taped to his skull."

More laughter between them, Stan's face taken over by a grin, Ford's face a little red. "...I'm glad we can joke about this now," Ford said quietly. "And I still..."

"Yeah yeah, I got'cha Sixer. It's over now, we're grown up and we're both still alive, despite some serious trial and error on our parts," Stan reached out to pat his brother's shoulder cautiously. "I'm just glad I never have to deal with that stupid triangle again."

"Do you still have nightmares about him?" 

"Sometimes," Stan made a face. "Feels like I've had them for years, so I guess I'm kind of used to them."

"...Years?"

"I had one once, back when we were in our twenties. I think it was around the time you were startin' to go paranoid, just a little bit before you called me in."

"...Stanley, what-"

Stan grumbled something, then nodded. "Yeah, must'a been. There was somethin' about winter and coffee and you were lookin' scared in the dream. I always just thought it was me worrying about you, but then I met the psychotic triangle and, well..."

"There was a dream, about a week before I sent you the postcard," Ford began quietly, his words chosen carefully. "In it, Bill made himself look like you and stabbed my eyes out. When I woke up, I drank as much coffee as I could stand before making something stronger. When you arrived, I guess I hadn't tested it as much as I should have. It made the paranoia worse, as you could probably tell."

"You greeted me with a crossbow to the face, Ford."

"Like I said," Ford's voice was sheepish, one of his hands rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "It made the paranoia worse. I detoxed on the other side of the portal, and I guess you must have gotten rid of it when you moved into the house."

"If it was rotten, I would have."

"Good," Ford looked at the directions again, directing them to another turn. "If you hadn't, I would have. It played chaos with my nerves, made me see things that weren't there. Most of the time, I wasn't sure if it was Bill or my own mind."

Letting out a sharp whistle of breath, Stan eyed his brother. "See, nerdbird, this is why you need me around. Without a limit, you tend to go a little too much."

"I suppose I do need some watching after," Ford admitted, making a face at him, "But I'm fully capable of-"

"This is the same guy who lights his face on fire instead of shaving, right?"

"...I don't have to answer that."

 

~

 

Finally arriving at the house was a relief to both of them.

Looking over his brother carefully, Ford frowned. "Is your ankle alright? We just walked a lot, I should have thought about it. We should have teleported, or at the very least taken a cab!"

Waving him off, Stan knocked on the door. "You groaned at me about therapy for it, I've been going. It's doing better, hurts less to walk on, I'll be fine," he grinned at him, "And anyway, I took a dose of meds before leaving the boat. Supposed to help."

"...Good," Ford took a deep breath, about to address something else when the door opened.

On the other side stood a man in his thirties, brown hair slightly messy around his face. "Hello?"

"Hi," Stan waved awkwardly. "We're looking for the Pines family?"

"...Oh!" the man grinned at them, opening the door fully and extending a hand. "I'm Thomas Pines, you must be Stanford. Great to meet you, come on in," he stepped back, still holding Stan's hand. 

Practically dragged inside, Stan motioned for Ford to follow. "I told you we had some things to talk about," he struggled to get the words out, tugging on the hand grasping his. 

(The younger man acted like Mabel, all exuberance and wide eyes. It made his heart ache.)

Thomas nodded, looking through the door towards the rest of the house. "You did say something about that," he looked at Ford, frowning. "...There's two."

"That is what he wanted to speak with you about," Ford offered his hand, smiling faintly even as his gut clenched. "I'm Stanford Pines. There were a few miscommunications over the years, and my brother here," he motioned at Stan, "Is Stanley Pines."

His jaw dropping, Thomas looked between them, a few small noises of confusion coming out of him. For a moment, all he could do was stare, then refocus on Stan's hand, still grasped in his own. "I-" his breath came out all at once like he was struggling to make any sort of action or words happen. "The reports said you were dead," he finally managed, his voice quiet. "You were burned to death in a car wreck, no-" 

Thomas stopped, then nodded. "No body was recovered. A funeral was held."

"Empty coffin," Stan made a face. "There was a bit of an interesting thing happening. Ford had disappeared and things were...Confusing."

"I can kind of get that," Thomas ran a hand through his hair, exposing a few moles on his forehead that looked a little like Dipper's birthmark. "Okay, so, wow. I've got an uncle and-" he suddenly laughed. "Do you know?" he asked Stan.

"He was the one who received the letter," Ford answered for his brother.

"Good, very good," Thomas faltered for a moment, an aborted motion making his body twitch before he nodded again. "I'm...I don't know if my surprise is going to be of the same sort, but I think it might be? I wonder if I should give them a warning, they won't be expecting..." he pressed a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing.

Ford blinked, then smiled almost kindly. "Is there somewhere we can set our stuff?"

With a wide-eyed, slow-moving nod, Thomas gestured towards a door off to the side, down the hallway. "There's the guest room, it's set up for two beds. Didn't know what was going to be needed."

Tugging his brother away, Ford nodded as well. "Thank you."

When they got closer, he pushed the door open, nudging Stan inside before closing it behind them. The bed closest to the door seemed easier, so he pushed Stan towards that, too. "Breathe, Stanley. Just breathe. It's hard, I know, but you have to breathe."

Stan let out a breath, his entire body shuddering.

Dropping his stuff on the other bed, Ford kneeled in front of him, bracing one hand on the mattress. "Stanley, you're okay."

"I," Stan began, his eyes unfocused, looking at a spot over Ford's shoulder. "That's my kid, Sixer. I didn't even know I had one until that letter, Carla's dad stopped me from seeing her eventually, and I guess...I don't know. I don't," he took another breath, still shaking, his hands trembling in his lap. "He acts like Mabel."

"He does," Ford agreed, still watching to make sure his brother wasn't going to go off in some way. "I think you would have been a great father."

Shrugging, Stan pulled off his hat. "I don't know about that," he muttered, letting his bag drop to the bedspread. "Alright, I think I'm good now. We've got niblings to see and presents to deliver."

"...When did you- Stanley, I should have brought presents for them!"

"Don't worry, Sixer, got your name all signed on 'em too," Stan pulled them out, piling them into Ford's lap before standing up slowly, rotating his ankle. "And hey, we're here now. Time to go see our remaining family."

For a moment, Ford struggled to balance the four boxes. Rolling his eyes, half-amused by it, Stan took two of them back. "These ones are for Mabel, those are for Dipper. I got him some blacklight ink and a light, as well as his own journal. Mabel's are a giant stack of sticker paper to draw her own on and a set of markers."

Laughing slightly, Ford tucked them into the crook of his arm. "Those seem to suit them,"

"I know what they like sometimes," Stan defended himself, motioning out the door. "C'mon, let's go say 'Hi' before they think we ran away."

The living room was easy enough to find, especially when Mabel came running out of it, her socked feet thudding quietly against the floor as she wrapped her arms tightly around Stan. "Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" she squealed happily, her face almost split in two as she laughed. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Like we'd miss this, kiddo," Stan assured her, ruffling her hair. "You still coming to see us for the summer? Got something planned for your birthday, sort of. I," he coughed, trying to clear his throat from what he knew would be tears if he allowed it. "I can't believe you guys are turning fifteen this year."

"I know, right?!?" Mabel laughed again, then turned and grabbed Ford in her hug. "Hi Grunkle Ford, I missed you too!" 

"Hello Mabel," Ford patted gently at her head, then looked over to see Dipper. The boy was standing back a bit, a small smile on his face as he waited for his sister to calm down. "Hello Dipper."

"Hey Great-Uncle Ford," he waved, then nodded at Stan. "Grunkle Stan."

An oinking noise from near their feet made both of them look down. "Uh, hey, Waddles," Stan greeted the pig awkwardly, reaching down to pat between his ears. "Mabel, sweetie, need to let me go for a sec,"

When she did, he gave the pig a heart pat on his side, then turned to look at both of them together. "You guys grew a bit," he said quietly, still trying not to tear up. "Look," he motioned above Mabel's head, measuring it against his chest. "You're too tall, kiddo."

"I'm just the right size!"

"Heh," he chuckled. "Alright, fine, I'll give you that."

For a moment, everything was quiet as Mabel hefted Waddles into her arms and settled him on the couch, sitting down next to him. From the next room over, a voice drifted out. "Nonsense, they're guests, I'll go greet them. They're gonna meet me eventually, y'know."

From the kitchen, an old woman wearing a red sweater and black pants wandered out, still talking over her shoulder. "I swear, Shermie, yah gonna have a heart attack one a' these days," she cleared her throat, patting at her neat twist of salt-and-pepper hair. "Well, who's this then?" she asked, looking at Stan.

For a moment, once more, it was silence.

"...Stanley?"

**Author's Note:**

> ...Am I evil for ending this section here?  
>  I think I might be evil for ending this section here. 
> 
> ...Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this.


End file.
